


Even to the Edge

by armchairpsychologist



Category: Astoria Fate's Kiss, Astoria: Fate's Kiss, Labyrinths of Astoria (Visual Novel), Lovestruck Games
Genre: Alex is too noble for their own good, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Other, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:59:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armchairpsychologist/pseuds/armchairpsychologist
Summary: Alternate take on the end of Hades Season 2/Astraeus season 3 beginning storyline.Or:In which Alex is a bit too noble for their own good. They learn, slowly, that sometimes you have to fight for love. Or lose it forever.





	Even to the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
> But bears it out even to the edge of doom."  
> ~excerpt of Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare
> 
> Alex is an awesome character.

Afterwards you wish you could have seen it coming. Maybe you could have saved yourself a great deal of heartache and pain. Maybe prevented things from spiralling so out of control. You couldn’t have, of course. That's not how Fate works, even for demi-gods. You have to suffer through the present of your mistakes and hope the journey leads to a brighter future.

It begins like this: 

You call her into your office, excited to tell her that a promotion for field agent isn’t far off. You have a number of open cases, and after some deliberation she requests assisting Hades with his preparations for the summit on Olympus. You’re proud she chose the tough assignment; Hades is notorious for working assistants to nervous breakdowns. If anyone can thrive and surpass expectations, she can. She works so hard. You’ve been careful not to favour her too much, careful not to let your affection for her show. You’ve never wanted to hold her back or isolate her from the rest of the office. It’s already bad enough that you’d hired her straight out of college, with everyone knowing you’d practically grown up together and that her mother was the main reason for H.E.R.A.’s existence.

In your defence, her application and interview had been flawless. You remember breathing a thankful prayer to your mother that you would be completely justified in hiring her. You didn’t quite realise at the time that your heart had slightly ulterior motives, but by the time your head caught up with it; it was far too late. The crush you’d quietly nursed throughout the years suddenly found the nourishment it needed to flourish in the warmth of her presence, almost without your realising. 

Every day, she entered the office with a cheerful smile, even when things were going poorly. She tried her best and was thoughtful and caring to everyone around her. She baked the most amazing lemon cookies (and always slipped you extra because she knew just how much you love them). She made you laugh. She was beautiful, even when tired, having only become more so over the years.

You couldn’t help falling ever more deeply in love with her, even though you knew (know) you couldn’t act on it.

Because she didn’t see you that way.

You were Alex, the older sibling type and Josh’s friend, who’d always been there. The one who’d met her as a baby, teasingly chased her around Central Park at eight and babysat her at thirteen (to her mortification). Only five years had separated you, but growing up, it may as well have been a decade. You had considered her as a sort of favoured younger cousin, close but not too close. But then you’d gone away to college and when you returned, she’d grown and you suddenly noticed her in a way you never had before. You could notice nothing else. But then she was off to college too and your focus turned to climbing the ranks at H.E.R.A. One day, years later, she was suddenly there in your office, eager to follow in her mother’s footsteps and you found yourself stuck. You could never move beyond the limits of your dual relationships with her: colleagues (okay, you’re her boss, which is definitely a power-imbalance) and friends. And you couldn’t imagine losing her trust or the closeness that grants you. So that was that.

Your mother does not approve.

Every time you see her: official business or otherwise, she makes a point of asking about her. How’s she doing, is she seeing anyone, have you asked her out yet…You try to deflect, but when your mother is the embodiment of love, denial is an exercise in futility. _Love doesn't to be reciprocated to be important, Alex._

You have your work. You like working hard, for your mother’s sake, for humanity’s sake, for the sake of your honour. You want to prove yourself to Olympus (to Ares, but that is another story). Show that being a demi-God hasn’t limited you. That you’re not lesser than full-blooded Gods. That you have value, can _help_.

It never seems enough, whatever you do.

The first time Hades sees her in your office, you feel a prickle at the nape of your neck. You can sense the curious interest of the usually aloof God of the Underworld. You can’t exactly blame him: she’s stunning. 

With selfish misgivings, you authorise the case and offer words of encouragement. You almost forget to (hiding a blush) give her the ring belonging to her mother that you’ve been looking for the right moment to pass along. The ‘right’ opportunity never presented itself. Every time you’d tried, you just kept imagining what proposing would be like and gotten yourself so flustered you’d given up.

She’s happy you’ve trusted her, you can see it in her face. That makes you smile and you offer reassurances to send her on her way. You know she wants more than anything to follow in the footsteps of her mother; it’s a driving force you can respect, and you know that a good performance on this particular case could be the boost she needs for you to be able to promote her to field agent.

_Yes_ , you think as you watch her leave the office with distinct bounce in her step, _this is for the best_.

Then the summit explodes.

You’re sitting in your office working (of course) when it happens. The building trembles, light debris falling from the ceiling, then the echoing of shocked screams and the fainter sounds of a building panic start. For a moment, you are paralysed as your stomach twists into deadly knots, before you spring into action and take control of the situation. You know instinctively that your mother lives; the ties of blood run deep with Olympians and you would feel it in your very bones if something had befallen her. This is supported later, when you receive a phone call from her, reassuringly vital and alive. Meanwhile, a part of you is sick, wondering whether you’ve sent the woman you love to her death and how you can ever hope to live with yourself if you have.

You only feel like you can breathe again when you see her standing in the open elevator, hands upraised against the over-eager agents pointing firearms at her.

You wish you could hold her, comfort her, but you know it’s not appropriate. And really, she doesn’t need you. It’s a selfish desire to reassure yourself that she’s safe, whole. You swallow down these emotions and assign her to Olympus. You have to if you want to treat her as you would any member of your team. She’s earned the right. She’ll be safe with Hades at least. He’s a gentleman at heart, despite his reputation on Earth.

Over the coming days you have to be in what feels like a thousand places at once, with endless people looking to you for direction and order and confidence. Cleaning up the messes the Titans keep causing is messy and time-consuming. You thrive in adversity, but even you tire eventually. 

It’s in these moments, where you are forced to draw breath and close your eyes, that you see her painted across the inside of your eyelids. You know she can handle herself, that she is tenacious and brave and has the protective magic of her mother’s ring to back her up –not to mention the Lord of the Underworld. But the worry is an irrational one that eats away at you, one that guides you to call more frequently for updates than strictly necessary, just to hear her warm voice. You feel your lungs constrict every time a report comes in saying the Titans have targeted Olympus again and fight to master the thick emotion that surges up.

_Tell her Alex_ , Aphrodite sighs, _tell her before it’s too late_.

You don’t know how to tell your mother that it’s already too late.

It happens, or more accurately, _they_ happen. Two attractive people living and working closely together in life-threatening circumstances. It was inevitable. Your mother calls almost as soon as you find out and offers what comfort she can, but all you can hear underneath the sympathy is: _I told you this would happen little Hart._

You don’t fight for her.

Hades is technically one of your superiors, a Top-Tier God. You are only half of one; too mortal for Olympus, too godly for Earth. You’re still her boss, her friend at best; it could never work. She’s better off with him.

You swallow down the knot of heartbreak in your throat and throw yourself into work. It’s easy to pretend, especially as work never seems to end; always one more artefact discovered or lost, one more escaped monster, one more titan to apprehend. She spends most of her time working with Hades now, which is good. You see less of her, but still do your duty and make sure you receive reports. She’s thriving, as you knew she would. It makes you so happy. She’s doing what she was meant to do. 

Your mother stops asking about her and you pretend it’s because they both spend so much time on Olympus.

People assume, as Aphrodite’s child (or one of them), that you hop in and out of people’s beds at will. For some reason it’s easier for them to equate love with sexual gratification. But you don’t. That lifestyle, of sexual intimacy without the warmth of love to spark it, is unthinkable to you. You give your love in other ways. You buy pastries and coffee for the department when a difficult case is closed. You listen, when you hear May sniffling at her desk and offer her a gentle word, a tissue and the afternoon off. You hug your mother when you enter her rooms on Olympus and spend the evening gently combing through her silken locks of hair, while she sings beautiful melodies. You laugh and joke with Nyela when she joins you in karaoke, soaking up her camaraderie as much as the beer (though she only drinks virgin cocktails). 

It’s enough.

But then the delicate balance is destroyed.

Astraeus the rogue titan reveals Hera is reborn.

This should be wonderful news except that it is also revealed that Hera has simply been sleeping within her vessel all this time.

And Hera’s chosen vessel is…

Her.

You know with chilling certainty what this means. One glance at Zeus’ face confirms it; longing, desperate, possessive. He wants _Hera_ back. And he doesn’t see the human woman before him. She may as well be a puppet or mask because she’s not real to him.

You tense beside Aphrodite, waiting with bated breath for Hades to deny his brother, King of the Gods or no. Only he, of all the Olympians, could stand against Zeus. You watch her eyes lift trustingly to his, silently pleading for his protection.

But Hades says nothing, averting his eyes.

_No._

This is a death sentence hidden in laurels of honour. In a panic, you meet your mother’s dark ruby gaze, her influence over Zeus is well-known, but she sadly shakes her head and looks away, ashamed. She should be. This is the child of one of her dearest mortal friends.

You look beyond and meet the desperate gaze of a condemned woman, searching for salvation. Her eyes fix upon you and grow clearer, calmer. As if she knows you will protect her.

And you realise that you cannot stand a single moment more without fighting for her with every last breath of air in your lungs, or drop of your blood. 

You straighten your spine.

“Lord Zeus,” you interject as you see the God-King’s mouth begin to open and pronounce his judgement for all Olympus. “Forgive my interruption on this momentous occasion, but might I speak?”

Zeus scowls at you, lightning crackling within the clear blue depths of his eyes. Aphrodite steps forward and places a hand on your shoulder, sending a warning look in return. “What harm could it do to hear out my child, who is one of those whose hard work plays such a vital role in running the organisation built to find Hera?” The words are mild, but the tone warn Zeus not to offer her blood insult. Zeus’ scowl abates and he nods, albeit somewhat grudgingly.

“Speak, Alex Cyprin, blood of Aphrodite.”

The formality make your nerves jangle, but you flash a confident smile. “H.E.R.A. as an organisation has searched for the Queen of the Gods for over twenty years and she has yet to manifest. We don’t know the circumstances of her disappearance, but considering her power, we presume this must have been extreme.” You speak with all the charm and delicacy you can muster, fixing Zeus with your whole attention. Your mind races to find the right words, those which will buy you more time to draw support to her cause. “Considering that, shouldn’t any further action be cautiously approached? The consequences of forcing an ascension, especially if Hera’s spirit is not ready to do so, may be severe and inadvertently damage her. She could be permanently lost.” You feel the faintest pressure on your shoulder where your mother rests her hand. Zeus’s face has grown mulish and stubborn.

“I agree with my child,” Aphrodite nods. “There is no reason to make hasty decisions at this juncture. We have found Hera’s vessel out of the billions of mortals in existence. That is a miracle. But I have no desire to harm the blood of one of my dearest friends through over-eagerness.” Some of the other Gods and Goddesses nod, beginning to sway. “I say we wait.”

“Wait for what?” Zeus demands, folding his arms. 

“For research,” Athena finally joins in, eyeing you with a gaze you can’t quite make out. “I agree with Mx. Cyprin: caution in this matter is the wisest path, father.” Across the hall, Persephone nods vigorously from her place beside Hades. Apollo the sun God scratches his curly tousles of hair and shrugs his agreement; his medical expertise lending further weight. Artemis, Apollo’s twin, supports him out of solidarity as far as you can tell. Demeter nods too, her eyes gazing at the woman central to the discussion with empathetic eyes.

And suddenly, the tide has turned in the hall. You can feel it. Zeus can too. For a moment he stiffens, as though ready to fight, then his shoulders sag slightly, and he sighs, some of the lightning fading from his eyes.

“So be it,” he intones and your heart leaps like a stag dodging a hunter’s arrow. “Let us wait and learn more before beginning the ascension ritual.”

Your eyes immediately seek her and you find that she isn’t looking at Zeus, or Hades, but straight back at _you_. Tears glitter there, but so do gratitude and relief. You nod confidently at her, tilting your head to offer one of your usual smirks and hide how terrified you have been for her this entire time. She smiles at that, blushing faintly as she shakily wipes away her tears. Your fist curls at your side, longing to be allowed that gentle touch. You step forward without conscious thought, only to be stopped by a solid weight across your chest. Your mother’s palm rests against you, warm to the touch.

Hades places a comforting arm around her and speaks in low tones you can’t follow. You swallow. She seems to be avoiding his gaze, but listening. Finally she shakes her head and responds, slipping from under his embrace and hesitantly approaching you (giving Zeus a wide berth). 

“Alex,” she breathes and then both her arms are surrounding you and all you can do is to hold on and savour the precious moment where she is still herself and no one else. “Thank you.”

_I love you,_ you want to tell her, but that would be manipulative and wrong and it isn’t even the reason why you’ve done this, not wholly. 

You spoke out because discarding the human in someone –killing them– to allow an immortal Goddess to take over her vessel, is wrong. Deciding the value they have based on their divinity is wrong. It is also cruel –though the Gods and Goddess can be cruel– to condemn a young vibrant woman who has only ever tried to do good to nothingness and you could never stand by and allow it to happen before your very eyes.

You bite back the words she doesn’t need to hear right now and simply hold her, breathing in her scent and soaking in her warmth. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay,” you tell her, injecting all the conviction you can into your voice. “I won’t let them change you.”

Hades finally materialises beside you both, finally having gotten past the subtle interception of your mother. He nods stiffly at you in thanks and then takes her hand, drawing her into him. “Let’s go home,” he says quietly, and you think, for a moment, that you see a flinty look crosses her face before she nods. 

“Bye Alex,” she says, meeting your eyes for the last time. She smiles, wobbly and uncertain, but there all the same. “I’ll see you at work?” 

You smirk cockily back to reassure her. “Bright and early.”

You watch her until she vanishes from sight. Aphrodite sighs happily beside you, raising a hand to gently smooth the waves of your hair. “My brave little Hart,” she murmurs. “I’m so proud to see you fighting for love.”

You lean into the softness of her palm.

“I am mother.”

Resolve steels the very core of your soul and you silently swear not to rest until you have wrested the woman you love away from the clutches of Zeus.

And possibly Hades.

“...Will you help me?” you ask hesitantly, knowing the answer could very well be negative; she is bound by rules older and more inflexible than you can imagine. Part of you always fears asking too much of your mother, in case it makes you appear helpless or incapable in her eyes.

But she smiles at you, her look so loving it warms you to the bone and erases any doubt. “Of course little one. I always fight for love.” 

It doesn’t occur to you until much later that Aphrodite could’ve supported her, but chose not to. You wonder why. The answer strikes you like a shot from Eros’ bow: she was waiting for you to step forward.

Your campaign to sway Olympus away from reuniting with Hera is politicking at its finest and you are forced to cash in many chits and favours you’ve acquired over the years in order to gain support. It’s a painstaking process, but you find some immortals (Dionysus and Poseidon for example) simply seem to enjoy the opportunity for passive-aggressively thwarting Zeus’ desires. Some (Demeter and Hestia) are moved by the risk to both Hera and her current vessel. Others –Ares unsurprisingly– are immovable in their support of the ascension ritual. 

You don’t consciously realise you were doing it, but finally, the only immortal with a vote left is Hades. You’ve avoided him. You’ve barely seen her, as your petitioning has taken up most of your time over the past couple of weeks. You’re exhausted, but feeling cautiously hopeful. 

“Cyprin,” Hades greets, opening the door to the fancy apartment he’s taken in the mortal realm. 

You nod back politely. “Hades. You know why I’m here, I presume? May I come in?” He gracefully moves to one side to allow you entrance and you stride confidently past him. He shows you to a spacious kitchen and living room which makes you think how she probably loves baking here and accept the coffee you’re offered. As you both sip at the steaming cups, you ask the question which has been bothering you night and day. “Why didn’t you tell Zeus no?”

The God sighs, briefly shutting his violet coloured eyes, and sets down his cup. “It’s her destiny. Why would I stand in the way of that.” It’s clear that this is not a question.

In that moment, you understand.

“You knew Hera was sleeping inside her, didn’t you?”

He nods as though his head is heavy. “Yes, I knew.”

“Hera was also inside her mother and didn’t manifest. How come it wasn’t _her_ destiny?” You struggle to keep the faint flicker of silver aura in check at his high-handedness. At his presumption. “Or didn’t it suit you to have Hera manifest then?” Hades’ jaw tightens and he straightens, folding both arms over his muscled chest. You feel the faint crackle of aura prickle along your skin. A warning, nothing more.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know that she was alone and scared and you did _nothing_ to help her. They were talking about discarding her as if she were inconvenient packaging. You could have single-handedly stopped Zeus. The other Olympians would’ve listened to you.” You rein yourself in, biting back the impolitic words that want to break free. 

“I keep her safe,” Hades tells you, but his gaze is piercing now, scouring the inside of your mind to glean some insight. “She is my responsibility. You don’t need to concern yourself.”

“I will concern myself as I wish, thank you,” you clip out, feeling the sting of his underlying meaning clearly. “She is still my employee at H.E.R.A., and falls under my protection and care. So if she wants to remain mortal, I will see to it that her wishes are respected, even by Olympus.”

“So that is it,” Hades murmurs, tilting his head back in a brief smirk of realisation. You refuse to let it throw you. “Allow me to clarify matters, Cyprin. She will become a Goddess soon and be far beyond your reach. You have no right to interfere in the matters of Top-Tier Gods. I will see you out.”

“I’m going with them.” You and Hades both start at the sudden feminine voice who speaks, but you know instantly who it is. “If you think I’m staying here with you for one more minute, you’re wrong Hades.” His face crumples, suddenly vulnerably mortal in its anguish. You turn, taking in the tension between them. “I heard everything,” she says, eyes fixed in wounded betrayal on Hades. “I can’t believe you.”

They share an intense look; Hades beseeching while she simply glares.

“If you need a ride anywhere, I have my car,” you offer, stepping towards her, knowing she mostly relies on the subway for transport. You try to ignore the flutter in your chest at the sight of her tear-stained but serene face. She looks away from Hades finally and manages a gentle smile for you. The fluttering gets worse.

“Don’t leave, please,” Hades asks, his voice ragged. “We can work through this. I can explain.”

You see the tension ripple through her spine at the simple request. “No Hades,” she says, her voice firmer than you might expect. “We can’t. Not right now.” She turns to you and takes the arm you offer. “Thanks Alex,” she murmurs. You leave the apartment together, Hades standing behind you, defeated.

Your tongue feels thick and inelegant in your mouth as you make light small talk in the car. She asks you to take her to May’s place rather her own apartment. You’d wanted to offer your own apartment, but knew it wasn’t appropriate. 

“It’s okay Alex,” she interrupts your attempts at diversion. “You can tell me how bad it is. When are they going to do the ritual?” Her voice is resigned and calm as she leans against the head-rest with her eyes closed. “How long do I have left?”

You don’t want to lie to her. But you don’t want to give her false hope either. “It’s not over yet,” you tell her, your fingers tightening on the smooth leather of the wheel. “I’ve been talking to as many Olympians as possible to sway the majority. My mother is helping. So please, don’t lose hope.” You risk glancing away from the road for a second to look at her. She’s looking straight at you, eyes wide. Unwittingly, you feel yourself flush under the look of complete faith she’s giving you.

“Alex, thank you. You didn’t have to do that. I-I can’t thank you enough.”

“I wanted to. You don’t deserve this, any of it. You’re a person –they can’t treat that fact as though it’s inconvenient, just because they want Hera back. You deserve to have a choice and for it to be respected. I’ll do all I can to ensure that happens.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, but when you chance another glance over, she is curled over and huddled into herself, face hidden behind a hand. Instinctively and completely without your permission, your right hand reaches over and clasps her left one, squeezing comfortingly. A warm rush shoots down your arm as you feel her squeeze back.

You know in that moment you won’t fail her. Anything else is unthinkable.

A tense few weeks pass.

You fall into a new rhythm; coffee, work, petitioning any remaining Olympians and visiting her. This last is a pleasant new addition to your routine. Since the declaration of Hera’s new vessel, coming into the office has become _problematic_ for her, despite your best efforts. Awestruck agents are quite a disruption and so you offered her the option to work from home. You’d actually hoped she’d take time off, but her work ethic rivals your own. You admire that about her.

So what ends up happening is that you visit her, every day pretty much, checking if she needs anything and bringing any necessary documents. You know May visits too, but you take guilty pleasure in lingering and talking, sharing details about your day, under the guise of ‘checking in’. This evolves over the days to staying longer, to bringing takeout, to laughing over wine, and to curling up on the couch and watching (her) TV. A few times you coax her into taking walks in Central Park, or down to the local café. Anything to get her out of the apartment and in the fresh air. You try not to think about the way she brightens when you appear. Or the way her eyes remain on you when she thinks you’re not paying attention.

You don’t talk about Hades.

Some days when you visit, she seems quieter than usual and you see beautiful flower bouquets discarded on the countertop or torn envelopes in the trash. On those days she often hugs you when you arrive, clinging close as though seeking reassurance. You don’t quite know what to make of it all.

Part of your nature allows you a measure of sensitivity or intuition into the affections of others, though you’ve always tried to dull yourself around her. Hope or lack of it would be too painful. Spending time with her is more than you dared to imagine. A tempting glimpse into how life could be.

But you have to be patient.

The day finally dawns that you and your mother have spent so much time preparing for. You stand in the hallowed hall of Olympus where the thrones of the Gods and Goddesses sit, only Hera’s throne conspicuously empty. You’ve coached her so she knows what to expect and how to react. And reassured her that everything will be fine. You pray to the Fates not to make a liar of you.

Unfortunately, you are unable to stand beside her, bound as you are to your mother. You stand at Aphrodite’s left hand, respectfully silent as she addresses Olympus and introduces the motion to cancel the ascension ritual. Outwardly, you assume the confident mantle of unruffled demi-God. You send a reassuring nod to the woman you’re so in love with you’d gladly face down angry Gods and titans and see a slight smile curve the corner of her lips in response. 

Privately, you’ll never admit to being a total a hot mess of nerves. The stakes have never been so high.

You watch Zeus’ face grow gradually grimmer as he realises Olympus has united _against_ his wishes. Flanking him either side, Poseidon and Hades stand with their arms crossed: The Lord of the Seas apparently bored (though you see the faint glimmer of amusement at thwarting his older brother) and Hades…completely expressionless, except when you catch him glancing towards the woman whom he clearly loves. In those brief moments, you see his heartbreak. But he doesn’t speak in her defence.

One by one, the Olympians persuaded, cajoled, bartered or coerced (your mother’s doing, not yours it must be said) to your cause step forward and say their piece. To your surprise, Ares is even among them and one glance at your mother’s adoring expression tells you everything you need to know. A fist curls tightly at your side, hidden from the chamber’s view.

As the minutes pass and the dissent of Olympus is becoming embarrassingly clear, you can see her face begin to shine with cautious hope. Hades looks shocked as Persephone, his niece and ward (also Zeus’ child) speaks passionately against forcing the change of Hera. You squash the petty satisfaction you feel.

“Well,” Aphrodite finally claps her hands together brightly to draw a close to proceedings and then beams. “I think we’ve reached a clear decision here, haven’t we?”

Zeus growls, thunder rumbling high above the clouds.

You hold your breath.

Zeus sighs as though worn down by the arguments, but then turns to Hades and nods. “Do it now,” he says and your heart freezes in your chest as the Lord of the Underworld raises a hand, glowing with purple aura. Zeus’ outline is suddenly haloed in his bright lightning-blue aura.

“Please understand, this is the only way we can be together.” Hades murmurs softly.

A glowing ritual circle, complete with binding seals springs into being beneath her feet, trapping her in place. She looks terrified.

“No!” you don’t recognise you voice as you bolt forward, your silver aura simultaneously surging forth to try and hold off both God’s auras. Sweat breaks out along you forehead with the effort it requires to try and battle even one of them. In the end, it’s just not enough. Hades’ reaper causally tosses your silver doe against a column and you wince at the backlash in your soul. Your stag is merely taunting Zeus’ aura, keeping it distracted rather doing any damage. Soon, it too is defeated. You sink to one knee, breathing heavily. It feels like you’ve gone ten rounds with a heavyweight tag-team duo.

You’re helpless as you watch in horror.

The God’s purple and blue auras swirl up around her within the circle and she cries out once in shock, glancing wildly around before she is hidden from view. You see her stagger as the auras clear, but when she raises her head, you know instinctively that it’s not her anymore.

You feel hot tears threatening and force yourself to your feet.

“Fight it, please you’ve got to fight it!” you beg, hoping, praying to any deity who’ll listen, that she can hear you somewhere inside. That she’s not really gone. 

The newly-born Hera lifts a hand coated in a golden aura so bright it’s like gazing into Apollo’s sun chariot and examines it. “I did not wish to be awoken gentlemen,” she murmurs, her voice both the same and _more_ than before, the melodic tones carrying perfectly throughout the chamber. “How sad that you can’t take a hint. If I wish to manifest on this plane, I will do it myself.” Hera glows more brightly, a perfect dome of protection covering her. Zeus’ aura flickers and dissipates, leaving him standing speechless as he gazes at the Goddess before him. Hades falls back as his reaper aura vanishes too, but stares hopefully as if he might be forgiven.

You slowly approach the barrier, but make no attempt to try and breach it. You can barely summon a flicker of aura to light a candle. You call her name, refusing to abandon hope. “Come back, please, you have to come back to me-” you break off, swallowing down the desperate cry threatening to break loose. _I love you_ keeps repeating on an endless loop inside your head. “Please let her go,” you finally beg the Goddess before you, willing to offer anything if it will bring her back. Hera tilts her head, staring straight at you with unfamiliar golden eyes. It sends a chill through you.

“It’s nice to meet you at last, Alex. Look after her won’t you?” You draw in a sharp breath, confused. Hera shudders suddenly, eyes losing focus as she staggers. Her gaze is distant, as though listening to an unheard voice. “It’s time for me to sleep.”

Hera’s eyes roll back in her head and she collapses, the golden aura barrier surrounding her flickering out of existence. The ritual circle vanishes. You lunge forward and gather the unconscious woman into your arms, calling her name urgently. You can feel her chest move as she breathes, which is the only way you know she’s still alive. Dimly you hear Olympians shouting, blame and accusation being levelled. But it holds no meaning to you. Your entire world has focused down to this one person, everything else fading away. You smooth back loose strands of brown hair from a pale forehead and cradle her cool cheek against your palm, hoping to bring some warmth back to them. 

It could be hours or seconds, but her eyelashes flicker. “Alex…?” she groans and you hear a wet laugh leave your throat, as you clutch her even closer in pure unadulterated relief. It’s her. It’s really her.

“I’m here, it’s okay. You’re okay,” you tell her, words tripping over each other. “Everything is okay.”

“I heard you…” she mutters, brilliantly brown eyes peering up you, her brow scrunched adorably in recollection. “I heard you calling for me.”

“I was terrified you’d gone,” you answer, honestly wrung from you as nothing is left to censor it. It feels like surrendering. “I couldn’t bear losing you.”

“I came back for you,” she smiles, rubbing her cheek slowly against your palm. You recognise the look in her eyes. You swallow. 

“Just don’t leave again,” you say, attempting a version of your normal confident smirk, though it feels a bit wobbly. 

“I won’t.” Her voice is soft, matching her smile. “If you promise to stay with me.” Your heart thumps and you smile back. In that moment, you know, as clearly as though the Fates have allowed you a glimpse of their intricately woven tapestry, that a brighter future is dawning for the both of you.


End file.
